And the falls, an endless acquisition over an ever-
Moving target, the slow parade that no one sees
Of straps unloosening, hats waved, flags aired,
Trash billowing across deserted streets, soon
Disappearing as if the whole confected machine
Was never there.
The river glistens.
From the roofs of houses the oceans inside each
Droplet fall to patterns, then to mirrors, then to seas.
But the one thing, unique, from the mountain, never
Came to anything. It merely joined the clogged rush
Of oneness, not wanting to connect. We hear it
Hiss as it goes down. It never begins, never ends.
Its purpose is moving from
one incomplete
Destination to another.
Oh how the houses
Bind at their anchors! Their satellite engines orbit away
Only to be led back to the center, which is no center at all,
Just a spot where a seed didn’t die. They're hooked up now
To wires, comforted by grass, hiding a particular purpose
As if anonymity is how they're supposed to be.
How strange the
Unaccountable, radiant and unarguably new,
Emerges each day from this, the same sun and trees,
How strange the
Unaccountable, radiant and unarguably new,
Emerges each day from this, the same sun and trees,
What was impossible even yesterday.
